


culture club

by acchikocchi



Category: Show By Rock!! - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Rom-sensei, Shuuzo is still Shuuzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 09:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi/pseuds/acchikocchi
Summary: Rom-sensei receives a visitor at school.





	culture club

**Author's Note:**

> dear kii: one good turn deserves another. happy bunkasai week. :*

Grading was the worst part of teaching. The kids themselves weren’t so bad. Talking them through the lessons and seeing that moment when they finally _got it_ and looking after them to make sure they didn’t become drug addicts--that was kinda, you know. Gratifying or whatever.

Grading sucked balls, though.

Rom was dragged from by his intense contemplation of the pile of unmarked papers by the sound of his classroom door opening. An airy voice said, “Is this the A/V room?”

“Uh, no, definitely not,” Rom said, or started to say, and then he got a good look at who was asking and the words dried up in his mouth.

It wasn’t a student. It wasn’t a teacher. It was – to be perfectly honest, Rom didn’t know _what_ , or who, it was, other than straight out of a magazine or maybe someone’s wet dreams. Rom’s, specifically.

The vision – perfect face, perfect body, outrageous clothes – placed one hand on his hip. “What was that?”

He looked weirdly familiar, actually. Maybe Rom _had_ had this dream. He coughed. “Sorry. Coming down with something. Yeah, uh, no, not the A/V room. Just a plain old classroom.” No response. So he added, in case it wasn’t clear, “I’m the social studies teacher.”

The glossy blond head tilted to one side. Glossy pink lips pursed. “Really? You don’t look like the intellectual type.”

Rom’s back went up. Vision or not, the hell was he taking that. “I beg your fucking pardon, but this _is_ my—“ Then that familiar, dismissive tone sunk in, and he stopped dead and stared. “Holy shit. Shuu?”

The perfect face – Shuu, that was definitely Shuu, it had to be – lit up. “Are you a fan?” He added, _sotto voce_ , “It’s Shuuzo, you know, but I wouldn’t hold that against one of my precious fans.”

Rom blinked, several times, but Shuu was still there. Only instead of the skinny, pretty kid Rom remembered from high school, the one who layered on the eyeliner and never seemed to smile, this Shuu was… _sparkling._

“No, I—didn’t we go to school together?”

“Did we?” Shuu let out a trill of laughter. “You must recognize me from one of my TV spots, or maybe a concert?”

“Sorry, I’m not really a TV kinda guy.” He scratched the back of his head. “You some kind of celeb now?”

Shuu beamed. This was fucking freaky. “You can tell, hm? I suppose I do have an aura.”

“Right.” Rom rubbed the back of his neck again. “Uh, come in if you want.”

Shuu came in, all right. He came in and kept going, all the way across the room, where he perched on the edge of the desk and crossed one leg over the other. He was wearing, Rom noticed, knee-high white go-go boots. 

Rom stood up hastily. “Look, we definitely went to school together.”

“Mmm.”

“You went by Shuu.”

“Shuuzo.”

“You had dark hair then.”

“How persistent, sensei,” Shuu said, sounding just a touch displeased. Maybe that was because Rom had put a good three feet between himself and the desk by then. Shuu slid off the desk and made a show of looking around the room. “Social studies?”

Rom gave up, for the moment. “I look after the third year kids in Class 2.” For some reason, he added, “And I coach the soccer team.”

Shuu circled him speculatively, like livestock, or maybe dinner. “Good quads,” he said, “thighs, calves, yes, I see it—“

Rom resisted the urge to cover himself with his hands. They wouldn’t have gone far anyway. “Right, so, uh, not sure what you’re here for but the culture festival’s coming up, so, lots of work to do…”

“Please,” Shuu interrupted, “I know all about the culture festival. I’m the headliner, of course.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your lovely students voted on which of their favorite stars to invite to their festival, and they overwhelmingly picked – me!”

“And you _came?_ ”

Shuu’s look was pitying. “Of course I want to do whatever I can to grant the wishes of these precious boys and girls striving for their dreams?”

Rom happened to know that the dreams of most of the brats in his class centered mostly around fake IDs or spoilers for One Piece, but he could already tell it was useless to try and argue. Also, for one surreal half-second, enveloped in the pink sparkly cloud of Shuu’s imagination, he could almost believe it.

In the half-second he was distracted, Shuu sashayed forward until he was suddenly about half an inch away from Rom’s face. Rom managed to avoid throwing himself backward, but surely Shuu couldn’t help noticing how he tensed.

Shuu’s gaze dragged up Rom’s biceps. So that was a yes then.

“Anyways, _sensei_.” The title, drawn out in Shuu’s breathy voice, sounded downright inappropriate. “There’s a lot to work out before the festival. And I want this performance to be perfect.”

Was it weird that the steely flash in his eyes when he said _perfect_ —the glimpse of the sort of drive Rom remembered from the high school loner—made heat crawl up Rom’s spine? It was definitely weird. Fuck.

He drew in a breath. “I ain’t the one in charge here. You should talk to the head teacher.”

One hand landed on his bicep. Shuu’s lashes were absurdly long. They always had been. “Maybe you can answer one question for me?”

“Look, I’m not—”

Shuu said, “Should I borrow a uniform?”

Rom’s voice abruptly died. He thought maybe that the strangled sound he heard was coming from his own throat. He felt, briefly, like he might pass out.

Shuu, peering into his face, made a moue of disappointment. “Is that a no, sensei?”

All the blood in Rom’s body appeared to be collecting in his face, or maybe that was—anyway. He was a goddamn adult, not a horny teenager, and he was not going to be played like this. He was _not_.

“I dunno what the fuck you mean,” he managed to say.

Shuu’s lashes dipped once, twice. “For the students, you know, as a joke. It would be fun, don’t you think? I could alter—“ 

“You are not wearing a uniform,” Rom growled, and felt a horrible moment of dissonance in which half of him was seventeen and yelling at Shuu on the school rooftop and half of him was twenty-four and right on the verge of a weird sex thing.

Shuu’s eyes went hot. Fuck. “You’re right,” he said, “we’re adults now, aren’t we?” How did he make everything sound—like he did. How. “I guess we’re not in high school any more, Rom.”

Shuu released his arm. Rom lunged and missed. “I knew it. I _knew_ you fucking remembered.”

Shuu was somehow halfway across the classroom now. The sparkles were blazing full-force. “How could I ever forget one of my precious classmates? A single one of those treasured days—”

“You hated high school—”

“—and the cherished memories we shared? ” Shuu powered up the kilowatts and beamed. “I’d better find the head teacher now, have a lovely time grading. I’m sure I’ll see you again very soon!” The door opened. A hand, bangles chiming, fluttered at Rom. And then, just audible before the door closed behind him— “ _Sensei._ ”

The kids’ desks weren’t built for a guy six foot one. Rom barely noticed. Slowly, he sank into a chair. Slowly, his forehead met the surface of the desk.

It was going to be a long fucking week.

**Author's Note:**

> has shuu been keeping tabs all this time on the big tough guy who was always gruffly nice to him throughout high school hell? WHO KNOWS.


End file.
